Dickerson processes what is most assuredly an open threat from Marcus without shifting in his saddle, running numbers on how this team is likely to vote if he sits in silence. Derrica is certainly a no --

Derrica's agreement snags a wilder glance out of him, anything he might’ve said back to Bastien fumbled into a harder reframe of his current reality. His ears ring. A nervous grumble from his horse muffles under the clicking of her bit.

Being impudent now requires a level of composure he’s seldom pressed to summon, here.

“I could ride back to the Gallows alone.”

It’d sound harder without the shake in his breath when he suggests it.